House of Rougeaux(5)

“Eat and sleep, make noises and fight,” he always said.

“What they do?”

“Shh, Beje.”

“Tell me, Adu!”

Then he shook his head and told her a story, and these were their moments of laughing and smiling.

One morning Adunbi woke before first light and told Abeje he had a dream of Iya. He said she floated into the sky, with her arms raised and a long dress trailing. They went out of the hut to see the sky, now deep blue. Abeje looked east to see the brightest star, the Waking Star.

“That is she,” said Adunbi. “Ma’a looking down at us.”

A pale line grew from the edge of the earth and as the other stars faded the Waking Star seemed to burn even brighter. The black mountains reached up in the east, the palms waved their arms in the dark west near the Sea, and the air was gentle. The star was just as Abeje had seen it in the Grove. She knew their mother was there.



* * *



The groom was a young Irishman in charge of the stables and barns, the area where Old Joseph labored. One day Joseph brought Adunbi before Groom.

“I need another hand with the buggy today, Boss,” said Joseph. “He is Guillaume. Strong, smart boy, if it please.”

The Irishman cast his eye down on Adunbi and nodded. “Alright.”

After that Adunbi helped Joseph in caring for the horses. Joseph knew so many things about them, and took care to explain it all to Adunbi. Most interesting to Adunbi were the differences among the horses. One was shy about saddling on the right side, another preferred to eat her oats away from the others and nipped at any who tried to nose in. But Joseph pressed other things, how to avoid colic and injury, the right way to accustom a horse to a new bridle. He was a careful teacher, but hard, quick to grow impatient. He cuffed Adunbi on the back of his head if he drove a pick into the wrong part of a horse’s hoof, or failed to secure a harness. He shouted at him that New Year’s Day was coming and that Adunbi had better learn fast.

They dreaded New Year’s Day all the year. It was on this day that the bondspeople were brought to the auction house to be bought and sold. They never knew whom they might lose, where they might go. So Joseph gave all of his knowledge to Adunbi, understanding that this would increase his worth, and lessen his chances of getting the lash, or being carted away.

Three or four New Years’ came and went in this way, until one day Adunbi overheard Groom speaking with Old Monsieur about selling off some of the stock. The next New Year’s Day was not far off, and from their voices Adunbi knew that by “stock” they were not speaking of the animals.

“Adu, no,” said Abeje, when her brother told her what had happened. Adunbi shifted on the mat where he lay and continued. He had been at work pitching hay for the horses when Old Monsieur spied him.

“What about that one?” said Old Monsieur, pointing at the boy.

“He’s well with the livery,” said the Groom. “Would fetch a good price.”

Old Joseph approached them. “Beg pardon,” he said, “if it please, I just take Guillaume now to help me with the new horses.” He held out his twisted hands. “Fingers getting mighty stiff.”

Abeje held her breath. The old people always said one should never show a weakness.

This New Year’s Eve was a moonless night. Before banking the cooking fire and leaving to go to sleep, Old Joseph took Adunbi’s face, and then Abeje’s, into his old hands. He rarely touched them, other than to punish Adunbi, or offer his shoulder to Abeje.

“Holy One be with you,” he said to Adunbi. And “Holy One be with you, p’tit,” to Abeje.

And indeed in the morning, New Year’s Day, he went away in the wagon, shackled to four others.

Adunbi and Abeje, tall and thin as reeds now, trailed after the wagon as long as they dared. The work bell was already sounding and they knew Joseph would be angry if they risked a whipping. He faced away and couldn’t see them, but they obeyed him as they would a father. At last they understood his great impatience with Adunbi, and his sacrifice.



* * *



Abeje and her brother saw the passing of two more years. They were not babies anymore and tended their own cooking fire. Lise still gave Abeje her tasks in the garden, and sometimes errands for the kitchen. One day Lise and Abeje brought up baskets of greens from the garden. Karine, the head cook, told Abeje to wait outside the door while she gathered some metal pots for her to scrub. A half-keg of salt sat by the door where she waited. Karine came out first with the pots, and then a second time with a spoon and a glass of water. Karine scooped a spoonful of salt from the keg into the glass and stirred. The salt vanished!

Karine told Lise to take the saltwater upstairs. Madame had another sore throat. Abeje wondered on this as she rubbed the white stones used for scrubbing against the blackened bottoms of the pots. The salt went in the water, though it seemed to disappear. Sea water and tears tasted of salt. It lay in the water invisible as a spirit in a body. People had called Iya a saltwater slave. So perhaps when she died the salt rose back out of her body. Perhaps the stars were nothing more than handfuls of salt, flung from the spirits of people.

With Joseph gone the Groom called Adunbi often to his aid. Groom cast a suspicious eye on the boy and always added to his orders the threat of boxing his ears, or reminding him of the lash. By the time Adunbi was fifteen years old he had grown much, was taller than the Irishman, and quite strong.